


Astounding X-Men, vol. 1, #001: the World's Most Astounding Young People!

by Murf1307



Series: Astounding X-Men! [1]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Darwin is Alive, Gen, Missing Scene, POV Character of Color
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 18:25:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7065172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Murf1307/pseuds/Murf1307
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>And then there were five:</i> Introducing the future of super-heroism!  In a CIA compound in virginia, six young mutants come together in the face of overwhelming evil — but can they all survive the night?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Astounding X-Men, vol. 1, #001: the World's Most Astounding Young People!

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to the first 'issue' of what will be an ongoing biweekly (once every two weeks) serial that basically chronicles how i would have written the XMCU, given the chance. each 'issue' has a cover graphic, and every month i'll be posting the 'solicits' for the next month on my tumblr, bigenderalexsummers. hope you enjoy the story, and decide to come back for more on the 15th!

_ _

_Open on a secret CIA compound somewhere in Virginia._

_Welcome to the CIA's mutant office -- home to Dr. Hank McCoy, mutant, and a collection of agents too...quirky...to maintain the organization's reputation._

_Tonight, though, Dr. McCoy, age 20, is joined by five other young mutants.  Among them: Alex Summers, ex-con; Armando Munoz, taxi driver; Raven Darkholme, former orphan; Angel Salvadore, former 'exotic' dancer; and Sean Cassidy, professional layabout._

_This is where the story starts._

_Welcome to the very beginnings of the X-Men.  Hope you, and they, survive the experience!_

 

* * *

 Armando looks over at Alex, who's been quiet ever since the group shared their powers two nights ago.  Quiet, but watchful.

 And more often than not, his eyes are on Armando.

It's not in a bad way, Armando thinks.  The kid is just _watching_  him, like he's trying to figure him out, and Armando's seen that before on plenty of faces, and most of the time it's been just fine.

Thing is, the kid keeps getting his attention that way.  And something about him...

Well, Armando doesn't believe in fate or anything, but if he did.

If he did, well.

Angel catches him looking back at Alex when Alex is looking somewhere else, and when Armando gets up to go on a Coca-Cola run, she follows him.

"Please tell me you're not _interested_  in the white boy who explodes," she deadpans once they're alone.

Her meaning's clear, that emphasis makes it obvious.

Armando's kind of grateful that she's the one who brought it up.  "Dunno.  He might be _interesting_."

"The exploding's the only thing that makes him any different from any other white boy, Darwin," she says.  "He's a bad idea in blue jeans."

"Okay, okay.  But he looks like he at least needs a friend."

Angel rolls her eyes.  "Whatever.  I know his type, so don't say I didn't warn you."

* * *

'His type' turns out to be quiet, and withdrawn, and Darwin isn't sure what to do with that, until he walks into the rec room a little later to find Alex alone by the pinball machine, laser-focused on whatever he's working on.

"So you really are a delinquent," he teases, heading over to join him.

"Not gonna ask why they have contraband laying around a CIA compound?" Alex responds, not looking up from the machine, but hey, it's the longest sentence Armando's heard from him so far, so he's gonna roll with it.

He shrugs.  "Dunno.  Doesn't matter, really.  Pinball machine's not a mutant." 

"Not sure I like that word."  Alex still won't look up, and the numbers are climbing, despite the distraction Armando poses.

"Why not?  Not a lot of other options, hotshot."

"Oh god, not you too."  Alex finally, finally glances up.  "With the code name thing."

Armando laughs.  "Raven's pretty set on 'em, seems like."

Alex stops playing, topping out his score at fifteen hundred only because he stopped.  "I mean, Havok's not so bad," he allows.  "But really?  Code names?  We're not suits, or spies."

"Maybe so, but it could be fun."

"I'm still not sure I'm sold on the whole 'saving the world' thing, to be honest."  Alex shrugs a shoulder.  "But it's better than prison, I guess."

"Prison?"

Alex sighs.  "Yeah."

"What'd you do?"  Armando's genuinely curious, and has a feeling it was an accident, whatever it was.

Something changes in Alex's face.  "Can I not answer that?"

"Sure."

Alex turns back to the pinball machine.  Armando watches as he starts up another round.  

The quiet is companionable, and Armando smiles.

* * *

"Man, you are _killing_ me."

Armando has no idea how prophetic those words are going to be, and he just smiles at Alex as Alex drives the pinball score higher.  

Something feels right about this, until it all goes horribly wrong.

He drags his hand across Alex’s chest, not-quite-tugging his attention away from the game, and Alex follows him to the window, steady at his right hand — like he’s supposed to be there. 

When the first body hits the ground, he feels a little guilty that his first priority is Angel, but he gets between the whole team and the window as the night turns into a horrorshow.  Out of the corner of his eye he sees Alex taking up a position on the other side of the group, sharp as a loaded gun, a lit fuse.  

For the first time, Alex looks _dangerous_ , and Armando thinks that he might have a feeling about what put Alex in jail.

That’s how they work, bracketing the group between them, trading glances like they can talk without talking, and isn’t that crazy, Armando thinks, that they can look at each other and just _know?_   They met two weeks ago, and here they are.

It’s instinctive, and when their eyes meet over the huddle of the group and silently, they agree to fight, Armando knows that when he makes a break for the door, Alex will follow him.

Alex keeps following him, and then, when it comes down to it and Sebastian Shaw tries to pull the group apart, Armando knows exactly what to do:

He turns to Alex.  He makes it clear with his eyes and his touch that they’re going to fight this, and that they’re going to win.

Alex looks back at him with gravity in his eyes, and Armando’s hand leaves his side as he turns to speak the lies that could damn or save them all.

“I guess that means I’m comin’ with you."

The next time he meets Alex’s eyes, he’s speaking his name.  He curls around Angel, because even if she’s tried to leave, she’s still one of them, and worth protecting.

He’s anticipating Alex’s blast, and when it doesn’t come, dread pools in the pit of his stomach.

He turns, and Shaw’s hands are crushing Alex’s energy, absorbing it almost.  Armando springs into action and tries to hit him, a desperate last stand.

It doesn’t work.  Of course it doesn’t.

As Shaw shoves Alex’s energy down his throat, everything in his body screams survival, and Armando stops breathing as Shaw takes Angel and they all vanish.  

He cycles through body compositions, burning up from the inside out, the energy wanting out of him, ready to break open his skin if it can.

He turns to Alex again, and thinks, _I’m dying._

Then he thinks, _I can’t._

He can’t, not with Angel gone, and Raven sobbing in rage and fear, and Alex staring at him like he’s about to fall apart.

He keeps his eyes locked on Alex’s, willpower just about the only thing holding him together, and thinks that the potential in the two of them is worth living for.

Definitely worth surviving for.

Energy burns him up inside, cracks up through the stone in a tremendous flash of light and agony.  He screams inside it — he’s never felt anything like this before.

And then he falls, almost crumbles like so much ash.

Alex is there in an instant, and Armando is burning inside, still, is burned, is still on fire.

“ _Darwin_ ,” Alex pleads.  “C’mon, man, stay with me."

And he does.

* * *

None of them sleep that night -- there's no way to, with Raven shaking and shimmering blue every few minutes, and Hank and Sean bracketing her because they're just as afraid, and Alex looking half ready to explode himself. 

Armando is healing, but slowly, and he looks like the world's worst burn victim, judging from what he sees when he looks down at his arms.

Alex stays close to him, not touching, which Armando appreciates.  It's strange, the gravity that Alex has when it comes to a time like this, a time where everything has fallen apart.  Alex is here, statue-still and burning up with rage, and Armando can only lean into that.

He's angry, too.  Angry that Xavier and Lehnsherr and that nice CIA agent lady weren't here, that they were left alone long enough for Shaw to come calling.

He's angry that Angel walked away, even though he knows why she did it.

And most of all, he's angry at Shaw for doing this to all of them.

_Adapt to this,_  the man had said, and Armando had, because he wasn't going to leave the rest of the group, wasn't going to leave Alex. 

Now, Shaw is going to have to realize that it's not just Erik Lehnsherr who wants him dead.

Armando thinks he's healed enough to touch, now, and reaches out, tracing the inside of Alex's wrist.

Alex snaps his attention to him, eyes a little wide, breath a little hitched.

Of course it is -- the touch is intimate, even for them, even after everything that happened tonight.  It's six o'clock in the morning, and Armando is touching Alex for the first time since Alex's energy was forced down his throat.

"You okay?" He asks Alex, because he has to know.

"No.  You?"  Honesty.  Armando appreciates that right now.

He smiles.  "Surviving."  He's good at that.

Alex huffs a little, and Armando squeezes his wrist.  

Three hours later, the place is crawling with suits.  Alex goes tense and taught, like he's ready to fight.  He positions himself between the CIA agents and the rest of the group like a blond guard dog, ready for the second they're betrayed.

Armando remembers _Please just let us normal people go_ , and understands both Alex's reaction and the dead man's.

Protect yourself, protect your own.

It warms him, a little, and sort of soothes the burning.

The agents look at Alex nervously, reading his behavior for what it is, and really, they _should_ be nervous.

Finally, Raven stands up and takes the lead to deal with the agents.

"We were attacked," she says, sharply.  "It was Sebastian Shaw."

It's a challenge.   _Do you believe in mutants_ **now** , her posture says, and she drops her buxom blonde in favor of redheaded blue.

Alex tenses even more, clearly sensing escalation.

Armando gets up.  "Has anyone been in contact with Agent MacTaggert?" He asks, firmly and clearly, and his hand brushes the small of Alex's back as he passes him, trying to soothe.

"No -- she and your, uh, recruiters, are still en route here from the USSR."  The agent seems horrified with Armando's face, and that's sort of the point.  "Sir, uh, do you need medical attention?"

"No, Agent, I'm fine.  I adapt to survive."

Between the three of them, they make an imposing sight.

Soon enough, though, Xavier, Lehnsherr, and MacTaggert all arrive in an unmarked car.  Raven slips back to blond at the sight of her brother.

"What happened?" Xavier says, almost desperately.

It's Alex who responds, bitterly.  "It was Shaw.  He showed up with his, I dunno, his posse or something."

"They took Angel," Raven adds, gripping her brother's shoulders.

Lehnsherr is the one who approaches Armando.  "What happened to you?"

"Shaw made me swallow one of Alex's blasts," Armando says, cocking his head like it's no big thing.  "I exploded, a little."

Lehnsherr nods, understanding.  They have this in common, now -- they have Shaw in common, him and Alex and Lehnsherr, and Armando wonders briefly, what that means.

"Good god," Xavier says.

MacTaggert is silent, but her eyes read guilty.

"What happens now?" Hank asks, from the bench where he and Sean are still huddled.

Xavier's eyes widen.  "Well of course we're going to send you home --"

"No."  Alex surprises all of them -- except Armando -- with the firmness in his voice.  "I'm not going back to _& %@^_ing jail because Shaw tried to break us."

Hank is the next surprise, standing up.  "And I don't have anywhere _to_  go."

"I'm sticking around, too," Armando says.

"Somebody has to make Shaw pay," Alex agrees, and there's violence written in every line of his body.

Sean shrugs and stands up as well.  "I'm in, too."

Raven nods.  "Then it's settled.  We're staying together.  We're going to fight Shaw."

MacTaggert doesn't seem surprised, just zeroes in on the practicalities: "Where are we going to go, then?"

Xavier takes a deep breath, and concedes.  "I know a place."

And that's that.

* * *

The place Xavier knows is the place Xavier _lives_.  And it’s enormous — Armando’s never seen a house that big in his life. 

“So the two of you,” Sean says, gesturing to Raven and Charles, “Live here alone?"

“Well, we spent the last six years in Oxford,” Charles clarifies.

Raven seems to realize something, then.  “Oh god, that’s six years of dust."

Armando’s mostly healed now, and it’s two in the afternoon, so he laughs.  “Well, I mean, it looks structurally sound, so I think we can live with a little dust."

He glances at Alex.  Alex glances back.

And maybe, for a while, it can be about something more than surviving.


End file.
